Night Butterfly
by Teira
Summary: Au, 3x4 mainly but some 1x2. Trowa meets a belly dancer called NightButterfly at a club. Nightbutterfly, or Quatre, is known in some circles as an entertainer and in other circles as a prostitute. Will Quatre's night occupation be enough to deter Trowa? O
1. Default Chapter

Title: NightButterfly  
  
Disclaimer: Because life likes to torture me and make me depressed, it has made sure I don't own the Gundam Wing characters but it has allowed me to play with them a bit. Since I'm not making any money off of this and it's just for entertainment purposes please don't sue me.   
  
Warning: Yaoi alert! Some 1x2 but focuses mainly on 3x4. r/r please!  
  
  
  
~*~NightButterfly~*~  
  
Trowa stared at himself in the mirror. His hair was brushed forward in its customary fashion to cover his eyes. He tucked his green shirt into his black jeans and then slipped on a long leather jacket that went down to mid-thigh. He then straightened his sleeves. With efficient moves belonging to someone practiced in the arts, he adorned himself with a small diamond earring in his right ear.   
  
There was a sound of a car honking that drifted from outside. Trowa grabbed his wallet, stuffed it into is back pocket and left his room, slamming his door shut. He walked down the stairs quickly, skipping every other one and waved to his sister as he made for the front door.   
  
"Don't be late Trowa. Mom and Dad'll kill you," his sister, Catherine, piped up. Catherine who was and wasn't his sister, Trowa having been adopted into her family when he was young.   
  
Trowa nodded his agreement to her before he walked out of the house. He headed down the front walk towards the black Ferrari belonging to his best friend/ex-lover Heero Yuy. Trowa slipped into the backseat and closed the door. Duo Maxwell, Heero's new beau, turned around to smile at Trowa as Heero sped off down the street.  
  
"Hey, Trowa! My main man, took you long enough to get down here!" Duo said with a smirk. Trowa rolled his eyes and shook his head. In response to this Duo made a kissy face at Trowa before turning back around.   
  
Trowa studied the profiles of Heero and Duo before smiling to himself. Heero and Trowa had gone out for a year though they'd been friends long before that. They enjoyed a steamy relationship that unfortunately didn't last. By mutual agreement they decided to stop dating. Heero's constant absences had left something to be desired and Trowa had had enough. Heero was in the military and more often than not was shipped off to God knows where. Four months after their breakup, but no loss in their friendship, Duo Maxwell waltzed into Heero's life. Both were completely besotted with each other, their relationship was surprisingly more passionate and tender than Trowa and Heero's relationship ever was. Trowa was grateful for Duo's presence. In Trowa's opinion Duo was a long time coming and Heero deserved him. Not that that was much comfort in the fact that Trowa was now alone.   
  
The car sped down the street quickly, streetlamps becoming blurs of light. They were headed off to a popular nightclub for Trowa's 19th birthday. This was the kind of seedy nightclub where fake ID's were expected and minors took half of the club's population up. It was Duo's idea of a perfect place. Trowa had a strong suspicion it was because Duo could obtain alcoholic drinks.   
  
They drove down dark side streets where soft streetlamps cast eerie shadows, and weaved there way through the Saturday traffic on the main streets where stoplights flashed and neon signs glowed.   
They parked in a small driveway on the side of the street, stepped out of the car, and then Heero locked everything up and turned on his alarm. Duo made his way next to Heero and snaked his arm around his waist, smiling mischievously and giving him a sly wink before pulling him along towards the club. Trowa shook his head as he brought up the rear and followed behind them.   
  
They walked that way down the busy sidewalk strip of popular nightclubs before they finally reached a club proclaiming it to be "Le Chat Noir" in bright neon violet letters and the outline of a cat. An exotic Asian youth, wearing an outfit of complete white and his hair swept pack in a tight ponytail, turned and scowled at them.   
  
"Hmmph, why if it isn't the trio of my wonderfully pleasant and gay friends that have finally decided to grace me with their presence." He announced haughtily.   
  
"Ah, come on Wufei, we're not that late!" Duo argued indignantly.  
  
"Oh no you aren't late at all. Yes, I forgot how you Americans think that coming thirty minutes after the appointed time of meeting is seen as being fashionably late and perfectly acceptable. Funnily enough, in my culture that is known at a lack of punctuality." Wufei replied heatedly. Duo shook his head and laughed merrily.   
  
"We going in or what?" He finally choked out between his giggles of glee. Wufei sighed as if this were all passed his indulgence but conceded by beginning to walk to the front door. The other three followed him, amusement dancing in their eyes. Tonight was definitely going to be interesting.   
~*~  
  
Most of the occupants in the club wore scant clothing, as if someone had neglected to tell them about the concept of decency. The clothing that most wore were halter-tops and short-shorts, studded colors and large earrings, boots and heels, most of which we all leather. A strange hybrid of techno and rock pulsed it's notes throughout the clubs atmosphere while people did some gyrating spasm like movements that they called dancing, which must have been called that in a joking manner, surely.   
  
Wufei's eyes scanned the figures in the room, their scant clothing, their closeness to one another and how not all couples were opposite sex. Women, and men, who wore clothes that barely seemed to cover the bare essentials, were doing some strange maneuvers that looked very much like they were trying to suck out their partners tonsils, and their manner practically shouted, "whore". Wufei turned to stare at Duo incredulously.  
  
"Maxwell, what kind have brothel have you taken us to!" He squeaked out in his rage. Duo smirked.   
  
"Now, now Wu-man, it isn't that bad. Come down would ya, you are going to draw attention to us." Duo replied.   
  
"My name is Wufei, and how am I going to draw attention to us! Have you seen the occupants of this room?" Wufei asked in disbelieving horror. Before Duo was given a chance to answer, a petite girl was waving to them and shouting Duo's name.  
  
"Duo! Hey, Duo! Over here! I saved you that table you wanted!" The girl shouted as she jumped up and down, one hand holding a beret on top of her head. Her short hair bobbed up and down as she jumped. Duo laughed.   
  
"Oi, Hilde! We're coming, hold your horses!" Duo shouted back to her, grabbed Heero's hand and started dragging him away. Wufei and Trowa followed closely behind, more afraid of getting lost in this crowd and being found by some of the more unsavory types in the club than they were of losing the companionship of Heero and his enthusiastic boyfriend.  
  
Fortunately for them all, they made it to their table unscathed. Hilde was introduced to them all as a friend of Duo's who worked at this wonderful establishment and had managed to do the impossible, which was to reserve them a table. She winked at Duo and waved to the rest as the manager yelled for her to "Get back to your damn bartending!"  
  
Now this girl Hilde had managed to snag them a table for four, right next to the stage, which was good because at that moment the lights dimmed, and a spotlight lit up the center of a crimson curtain. They'd made it to the club in time for the entertainment. The soft twang of some string instrument wafted through the air, accompanied by slight melodic sounds of a wind instrument and then the mournful voice of the violin decided to join in the action. The whole cacophony of noise from the instruments had a decidedly Indian or Arabian perhaps, quality to it. Middle eastern to be sure but in no way distinguishable beyond that.   
  
The curtains parted and a lithe human figure stepped out. Trowa gasped in awe at the astonishing sight. A blond boy stood there, his arms held above his head, elbows bent slightly. Plump upper arms lead down to thin wrist and hands with long tapered fingers. The fair-haired youth stared out at the audience with cerulean blue eyes set into a round boyishly young face. The eyes themselves though held little of innocence associated with the very young. He wore an outfit resembling that of the traditional genie costume, perhaps something that was actually native to the Arabic culture. The outfit's material was light and gauzy and appeared to hide everything and be revealing all at the same time. Trowa's heart skipped a beat. And then the boy began to dance.  
  
He swayed to the music slightly, a slow belly dance that was met with shouts of approval and merriment. The boy's body twisted and turned, each movement exactly precise. He tapped his fingers together; causing a slight clap because of the small finger symbols he wore on his fingers and the specific name for these small symbols drifted away from Trowa's memory. Each movement that the boy made was yet another piece of the spell of enchantment that Trowa was falling deeper and deeper in. As this bright and fair youth danced his eyes sparkled and his baby lips pouted and smiled all at once. This strange exotic blond dancer seemed to be unique and different, but at the same time, ordinary and inconspicuous.   
  
The music stopped though it didn't seem to stop at all. The notes lingered like some long forgotten moment, giving a feeling of nostalgia. The young boy walked lightly to the stairs of the stage, taking the hand offered to him by some older man to help him down. The man dragged the boy away, a fleeting look of surprise passing over the young blonde's face as he was pulled. Trowa stood up abruptly, making some mumbled excuses of having to use the restroom and getting knowing laughs in return. Trowa never let any of it even acknowledge into his brain before he was off, swerving around club hoppers and the like as he tried to swiftly catch up with the beautiful dancer.   
  
He stopped as he finally came to a wall, looking in every direction, until he noticed the blond disappearing through a door in the back of the club. Trowa, not one to give up easily, continued his chase. He burst through the back door and stumbled out into a dim alleyway. Soft voices drifted to him from his right.  
  
"Come on sweet lips. What's your problem? This is what you do for a living. What does it matter now?" A husky voice impeached, a voice you knew had to belong to some sleaze ball.   
  
"The difference, Mr. Tialto*, is that I do not care for your advances. Though I am quite aware of my current occupation, I reserve the right to turn any prospective clients down." A soft soprano/tenor like voice answered.   
  
A soft thud was heard and the slight sound of escaping breathe. Trowa turned to see the older man that the dancer had walked out with holding the young blond to the wall, his arm against his throat and pressing the boy against the wall as if he wished to push him right through. The boy clung to the man's arm and stood on tiptoe to prevent as much of himself getting strangled as possible.  
  
"No one turns down a Tialto! No one!" The man yelled viciously as he began to undo his belt buckle. The poor boy let out a small whimper though his eyes were closed and his face set in lines of acceptance.  
  
Trowa walked swiftly but quietly on catlike feet. Techniques of the self-defense and other such maneuvers that Heero had taught him came readily to his mind. In movements so fast they could almost be called lightning, Trowa struck. He hit at the back of the neck, at a vulnerable point that Heero had pounded into his brain to remember. The older and larger man quickly went limp, falling boneless like to the ground. The boy stared up at Trowa with his large blue eyes.   
The boy looked down to his once captor and kicked him in the side.   
  
"Jerk." He muttered quietly to himself. He looked up at Trowa and gave him a slight nod.  
  
"Thanks, I guess." The youth finally addressed to him.   
  
Trowa blinked in surprise.  
  
"By the way, what's your name, oh my knight in shining armor?" He asked in a slight sarcastic tone.  
  
Trowa caught off guard by the sarcasm and abrupt tone of the boy he just saved hardly was able to get out more that one answer. "Trowa." Came back his soft reply. "You?" He managed to ask.  
  
"Not much for words, are you Trowa? I'm Nightbutterfly* or that is what everyone else calls me." The youth answered.  
  
"What do you call you?" Trowa inquired.  
  
The blond smirked.   
  
"O.k., you saved my life I'll let you know my name. I'm Quatre Raberba Winner." The young blond now dubbed Quatre conceded. He held out his hand for Trowa to shake. Gingerly Trowa grasped the smaller boys frail hand into his own and gave it a slight shake. Quatre pulled away and walked towards the club's back alley door.   
  
"Nice meeting you Trowa. We should do it again some time. I have another show to do. Ta!" Quatre said as he walked, waving his hand but never once looking back. The door closed with a soft clank and Trowa was left standing in the alley alone and wondering how he would be able to meet the slight sprite like creature named Quatre again. Or how exactly he would save the obvious prostitute from his life on the streets.   
  
* -_-; Tialto is just some random letter I put together for a name. Yeah, it's lame I know. So sue me! (I don't really mean that!)  
* Nightbutterfly is what prostitutes are called in Indonesia. I'm not positive on that so don't quote me.   
  
  
Well that's it for now. I'll start writing the rest if I can get at least 5 reviews telling me to continue. And while I wait for those reviews I'll just brainstorm on the next part. ::Twiddles her thumbs and thinks while she waits for the reviews..if any come that is:: 


	2. Chapter two

Well, since I got such lovely reviews for my story I guess I shall continue. Though they're all probably just being nice..._. Anyhoo, on with the show!  
  
Title: Night Butterfly  
  
Pairings: some 1x2 but focusing mainly on 3x4. In other words, this story contains yaoi. Yes, ::Gasp:: homosexual relationships. You don't like that? Then don't read! Simple as that. I love simplicity.  
  
Rating: Oh, I'm guessing PG-13 for the "Mommy what's a homosexual?" factor. ::Shrugs::  
  
Oh and special thanks to my best friend Ashley who gave me the idea for Quatre to take things all the wrong way which will definitely help me later in plot. You're so cool Ashley! And can you believe she hates anime…::Shakes her head:::   
  
By: Teira (Why, that's me!)  
  
  
  
  
  
Night Butterfly  
  
Some time after, whether it had been a minute or an hour, Trowa found his way back to the table where his friends sat. He was met with the expected jibes and teasing for running off with some exotic dancer from the Middle East and they asked him if he was planning to elope with the young blond. Trowa shook his head, smiling slightly, but otherwise stayed silent. Not that this was of course any different than how Trowa usually acted. Duo was somewhat convinced that silence was Trowa's mantra and that he said it before he got up and before he went to bed like a soft prayer.   
  
Duo traced his finger along the rim of his glass containing some bright blue concoction that Trowa remembered on the menu as being "Cosmic" something or other. The braided young man had a look of seriousness on his face that was out-of-place on the ever pleasant and grinning boy.  
  
"Seriously Trowa, don't get too attached to that dancer, Night Butterfly isn't it? You'll get yourself in trouble. He's a prostitute and you know the laws on that." Duo said solemnly as he looked up at Trowa.  
  
"Duo you don't need to worry about me." Trowa snapped, surprised as much as anyone else with the sudden outburst. A flicker of pain flittered across Duo's face before he grinned, his ever-present mask.  
  
"Course you can Trowa. I know that. I'm just putting my two-cents in. Don't listen to me. I probably just had too much alcohol or something. Come on Hee-chan, what don't we dance?" Duo hastily exclaimed as he pulled his Japanese lover up and dragged him out to the dance floor. Trowa noticed that there was only one cup by where Duo had been sitting and the "Cosmic" drink was not even finished. Trowa felt a slight touch of annoyance at himself. This was his birthday party and he should've tried harder, for Duo's sake at least.  
  
Trowa closed his eyes briefly, cheer dampened, before he sat down and did his best to keep up a conversation with Wufei and the rest of the evening past by in somewhat of a blur.  
  
"You know Trowa, Maxwell could be right." Wufei told him quietly.  
  
Trowa stubbornly refused to reply to that.  
  
~*~  
  
Around the wee hours of the morn, about the lovely time of 3 a.m., Trowa made his way up the front walk. He waved exhaustedly at Heero and Duo as they drove away. His keys jingled lightly as they hit each other and tried to successfully do their job of opening the door. The keys clanked loudly in a cry of victory as they opened the lock successfully.   
  
With his natural cat-like grace, Trowa tiptoed his way past his parents' door and to his own room. He gently closed his door and threw himself onto his bed. The springs gave a little squeak of protest before they settled back down. He looked at his biology textbooks that were lying on his nightstand to his left. He turned away from them, vowing that he'd get his work done the next day. He let his tired eyes close, thankful for a nights rest, or at least what was left of it.   
  
~*~  
  
The next day, Sunday, the day Trowa promised to get his schoolwork done on just the night before, Trowa found himself pacing back in forth before door that he had so cleverly discovered to be the dressing rooms. Not just any dressing rooms but the ones the famous dancer Night Butterfly used. Trowa tentatively reached his hand out to the door to knock before he let it drop back down to his side. Knocking on a door had never been so hard. Once more he tried, and again he failed. Finally mustering up his courage he reached out to knock, fist poised just short of touching the wooden door. But before he had to make the decision of actually knocking and getting his hand to obey, the problem was solved for him. The door opened.  
  
Quatre stood in the doorway, his hand resting on his hip; his other hand adjusted a pair of sunglasses to rest on top of his head. He was wearing short-shorts that we black jeans. A metallic like lavender shirt hung loosely on him. He wore a pair of black boots and without any socks. Gold and silver bangles adorned his wrists. He looked slightly effeminate.   
  
"Why, if it isn't my knight. What are you doing here?" Quatre said, voice soft and light, like he never had to go through that awkward time of voice change and just skipped that part of puberty, opting for not having a deeper voice.   
  
"I..uh..I-I just wanted to see if you were o.k." Trowa offered up feebly, mentally kicking himself and chanting 'stupid, stupid, stupid'.   
  
Quatre's lips slightly curled in a small smirk.   
  
"That's sweet of you Trowa. You don't need to worry about me though cutie pie. I'm use to that kind of stuff happening."  
  
In a surge of inspiration Trowa asked, "Would you like to come to lunch with me?"   
  
"I'd love to darling." Quatre said with a smile.  
  
~*~  
  
Trowa watched as Quatre's pink tongue flicked out to gather more of the cool confectionary, which we know of as vanilla ice cream. Trowa was practicing his own form of meditation at the moment, chanting in his head, "Oh to be the ice cream, be the ice cream".  
  
They had eaten at a small burger place where Quatre asked about Trowa's schoolwork and studies. Quatre was interested, if not a tad bit amused, to discover that Trowa was studying to be a zoologist. He asked why Trowa had wanted to study in that field. Trowa noted that Quatre's eyes were bright and interested, and for once didn't hold the silent horrors or darkness that they usually had. He looked as innocent as he had every right to look.   
  
"Really, it's kind of silly." Trowa offered lamely, somewhat disconcerted that Quatre made him feel more open and that keeping up a conversation with him around was not difficult. It was a strange feeling for him, because Wufei and Heero hardly ever talked while with Duo it was a one sided conversation. Quatre always appeared to be the one talking the most but he learned more about whom he was talking to than that person ever learned about him.   
  
"I want to know anyways." Quatre pushed.  
  
"Well, when I was younger I went to a circus with the orphanage I was staying at. I remember the cotton candy and the balloons. None of us orphanage kids could get any balloons or candy, we didn't have the money. But I remember seeing other kids with it. I remember little of the show, flashes of the trapeze artists and such. I also remember a young girl, my sister now mind you, who was walking the tight rope. She must've only been a few years older than me and I was already four at that time. Well, her family owns the circus, the one here in town. They adopted me. But I digress. I wanted to become a zoologist because of the animals at the circus, especially the lions. For some reason the lions really took to me. In my naiveté as a child I'd gone right up to lion cage and started to pet them. The nun who runs the orphanage fainted when she saw this and Catherine's, the girl on the tightrope and my sister now, father was duly impressed. They adopted me shortly after that." Trowa finished, feeling he'd said more to Quatre in those few minutes than he had to anyone else in his life.  
  
Quatre smiled at him.   
  
"That's splendid. Do you work in the circus?" Quatre asked.   
  
"Hmm, sometimes I do. My sister and I do a knife show. Sometimes I do trapeze work of help out with the lions. You should come by sometime. I could get you some tickets." Trowa offered.  
  
"That would be nice." Quatre agreed.  
  
Though Trowa had tried to learn more about Quatre's past, the slighter boy had danced around those questions as expertly as he danced on the stage and never answered a one. Whenever he did talk, which was often enough since Trowa hardly said anything at all, it was usually about a friend at work or the fashions of the season.   
  
~*~  
  
"Who do you stay with Quatre?" Trowa ventured.  
  
"Oh, I live by myself." Quatre answered flippantly.   
  
And with much wit and intelligence Trowa answered, "Oh."  
  
They were walking down the crowded city streets, cars drove past, leaving noxious fumes in their wake. Bright spring sun beat down on top of their heads and soft white clouds floated above them. Farther ahead on the sidewalk Trowa spotted Duo, dragging his poor koibito Heero down the street. Duo's eyes were jumping with merriment and mischief. He looked up and locked eyes with Trowa, grinned and began to open his mouth to yell.  
  
Unwilling to give up his private time with Quatre, Trowa had to think fast. If Duo got a hold of them Trowa would never be able to find a gentle way to extricate himself and Quatre away and their afternoon alone would be shot. Thinking fast Trowa grabbed Quatre's hand and dashed down a nearby alley. He ran through the alley, and up side streets, dragging Quatre with him. He finally stopped to lean against the wall of an antique store and rest.   
  
"What was that about? And who were those two ahead of us that looked as if they were going to speak?" Quatre asked, cheeks flushed a light pink because of the mad dash down the alley.   
  
"Hmm, those were my friends." Trowa added simply.  
  
"Why didn't you go talk to them?" Quatre asked.  
  
"I didn't want them to see us together. I wanted…" Trowa began but Quatre cut him off.   
  
"You don't have to say anymore." He started angrily. "I know what you are going to say!" He practically shouted, a couple with their daughter shot Quatre strange looks before they quickly walked past.  
  
"No Quatre, you don't underst-" Trowa began again, and once again was cut off mid-sentence.  
  
"No Trowa, that's where you are wrong. I understand all to well. You didn't want your "posh" friends to see me, a known prostitute, with you. So you ran, taking me with you. It's okay Trowa, I won't tell anyone about our afternoon."   
  
Quatre held up his hand to stop Trowa from speaking when Trowa had ventured to open his mouth.  
  
"No Trowa, I'm not done. I thought you were different, of course that is what I thought about my father too. Just like him you're ashamed of me. He disowned me, scratched me from his will, disinherited me or anything else you would like to call it, as soon as he learned that I was a homosexual, gay, or in his words, a 'dirty queer.' So, you know what, I'll be going now."   
  
Again, before Trowa had a chance to say a word, the young boy fled. He ran back down the alleyway before Trowa had a chance to react. Trowa stood their, hand outstretched as if his hand could somehow bring Quatre back with it's own will alone. Trowa looked down at his hand where one small teardrop had landed. Trowa's heart constricted in sorrow as he stared after the running Quatre, saltine tears threatening to fill his eyes also. Trowa wasn't about to give up though. Somehow he had to get through to Quatre that he liked him for him and to also get Quatre to drop his pain and see Trowa for whom he was. Quatre was so wrapped up and bitter from his problems that he never seemed to see anything else. Trowa was determined to open Quatre's eyes.  
  
~*~  
  
O.k, that's it for now. What do you think? Was it terrible? Should I just stop now? I'm open for constructive criticism and new ideas. I need more ideas! So if you have any, please don't be afraid to voice them. Well, until next time! Ja ne!  



	3. Chapter three

If you have been reading this story you know the ratings, pairings and that I have stated disclaimers. So now that I have said that, on to the story.  
And forgive me for this being so late. -_-;  
  
Night Butterfly  
  
Trowa made his way through the smoky atmosphere of the nightclub once again. His tall figure was easily able to look over the heads of the club-hopping occupants to scan the surrounding scene to find the blond tousle of hair he was looking for. Finding this long looked for ruffle of blond hair that at that moment was reflecting blues, greens, and reds of the club's lights he walked towards it. Upon reaching this blond angel Trowa reached out and gently tapped the slim shoulder.  
  
"Quatre, we need to talk." He whispered quietly into the blond's ear. The slighter boy turned quickly in his seat, his small pink lips in an "oh" of surprise.   
  
"Why Trowa, what a pleasure to see you." The mouth said but the eyes said otherwise. Quatre then lightly put his small hands onto the arm of a man sitting next to him.   
  
"I don't believe you've met Travis. Travis this is Trowa." Quatre introduced. The burly man, who must've been Travis, nodded to him. Trowa gave him an answering nod.   
  
Quatre stood then, slightly pulling the other man up. Travis stood smoothly and put his arm around Quatre's waist.   
  
"Well, we must be going Trowa. You know how it is." Quatre said, voice cold and eyes even colder.  
  
"No, Quatre, we need to talk. Please." Trowa tried once again.  
  
"The time for talking is over Trowa dear. Now if you'll excuse us!" Quatre said. Then Travis and him pushed past Trowa to disappear in the group of dancers. Trowa sighed softly before he turned and fought his own way through the dancers to go home.  
  
~*~  
  
"So, that's why he won't talk to you? Why don't you tell him that isn't what you meant?" Duo said from his position on the couch, his head lying in Heero's lap.   
  
"I tried that! He wouldn't talk to me. Then he went off with some guy!" Trowa trailed off and resumed his pacing of the room.   
  
"It seems, my friend, that you are in a dilemma." Wufei said softly, his head tilting slightly to the side.   
  
Trowa just stared at him, as if to say, "You're telling me?" Wufei smiled slightly.   
  
"I guess I should just keep trying. Eventually he'll have to give in, right?" Trowa ventured. Three voices murmured there assent but three sets of eyes looked back at him doubtfully.   
  
~*~  
  
"O.k Trowa, this has to be foolproof. You got the flowers." Trowa nodded.  
  
"Chocolates?" Trowa nodded once more.  
  
"And you're all dressed up for the kill. Great, you're ready." Duo exclaimed and pushed Trowa towards the waiting doors of Le Chat Noir. With a slight stumble, Trowa righted himself, double-checked he had everything, and walked through the door.   
  
Once inside Trowa didn't bother to walk through the throng of people, but instead opted to hug the walls of the club to make it to the back room doors. He walked down the now familiar halls that he'd roamed the last few days and made his way to the dressing rooms.   
  
He stopped at the door he knew to be Quatre's dressing room and gently rapped on the smooth wood surface. He waited apprehensively for the door to open, his heart fluttering softly in his chest. Nothing. The door never opened and no blond cherub face peeked out to see who is was. Silence. Trowa frowned to himself.   
  
"He isn't there." A soft female voice whispered. Trowa whirled around to stare into the sad eyes of Hilde.   
  
"I shouldn't be telling you this, it could cost me my job, but Quatre is in the hospital. I'm not supposed to tell you. You know, all those "protect the privacy of our entertainers" bit, but you're a friend of Duo's and I have a feeling Quatre needs you, even if he won't admit it out loud or to himself." She said, her voice soft and warm. "Why don't you go see him? He's at the St. Gabriel hospital*" She finished before she turned and walked down the dark hallway, back to the club and to do her job.  
  
Trowa stood a while, there in the dark hall, in front of the door that led to a dressing room the was empty of the only angel he'd ever known. Trowa then retraced his way back down the hall and through the club to the front doors. With hardly a word he walked past his three friends and to his car where he then proceeded to hightail it down to St. Gabriel Hospital and left three astonished faces behind.   
  
~*~  
  
Trowa walked down a different hall now. A hall that was brightly illuminated and smelling slightly of antiseptics. A hall that was lined but brightly colored paintings that were hung to cheer up patients and grieved people alike. Trowa made his way down this bright hall disguised to be happier than it really was to the front desk. He gently tapped his finger on the desktop to get the attention of a brunette receptionist at the table.  
  
"Oh! Hello, how may I help you?" The girl asked.   
  
"What's the room number for Quatre Raberba Winner?" Trowa asked.  
  
"Are you related?" The girl asked.  
  
"N-...er...yes." Trowa answered feebly.   
  
The girl arched a brow at him and shook her head. "I'm sorry, only family members allowed in." She said firmly and started to turn away.  
  
"No!" Trowa snapped suddenly. The girl turned around again in surprise. "Please, I need to see him. Please." Trowa said softly. The girl looked into his eyes, green eyes that held a touch of sadness deep within them and nodded.  
  
"Room 3b." She said quietly. Trowa smiled his thanks at her before he began his walk down another hall.   
  
~*~  
  
He opened the door quietly and stepped into the dark room. A window with the curtain pulled aside let a small slip of moonlight in to flood into the room and fall across a sleeping form. Moonbeams danced shimmering on blond hair. Trowa stared at Quatre as he slept. A bandage was wound around his head; a small bandage marred the perfection of the sleeping face. Quatre's eyelashes cast dark shadows on his cheeks, making it look as if he had a black eye or hadn't slept for far to long.   
  
Trowa quietly walked over to the bed and sat in a nearby chair and just watched him sleep. Quatre's blue eyes opened slowly to stare back.   
  
"I heard you come in. Somehow, I knew it would be you. It isn't like my family would come to visit. They never have before." Quatre whispered.  
  
"You've been here before?" Trowa asked.  
  
"Hmm, not for a long while. I haven't been so careless for quite some time. My hurt blinded me. My anger. I wanted to hurt you and I hurt myself in the process. I should've known it would happen that way." Quatre laughed softly. "That's how it should happen if you try to hurt someone you think you are falling in love with." He looked at Trowa's face and smiled at the surprise that flickered there.  
  
"What happened?" Trowa tentatively asked, his voice just above a whisper.  
  
"That man I went away with, do you remember him? Travis I think. I should've seen it. I've been in this business long enough now to know. He picked me out to beat me, another one of those "dirty gays". It's happened before. Someone comes to offer me business but all they really want is to teach me a lesson. Their righteous cause." Quatre shook his head in disgust.   
  
"How bad are you hurt?" Trowa asked.  
  
"I have a concussion, and few scratches. Someone found me, unconscious and brought me here." Quatre said softly.   
  
"Oh Quatre, you need to stop what you are doing. Stop getting hurt." Trowa whispered.  
  
"Funny you should say that. You hurt me Trowa." Quatre said.  
  
Trowa sighed. "Quatre, you misunderstood that." He began then and told the young blond about not wishing to relinquish his afternoon alone with the boy. Quatre was dutifully contrite. Trowa stared at the bandages that were wrapped around the boy's head.  
  
"But Quatre, you need to stop being a prostitute. You're going to get hurt again!"   
  
"And do what Trowa?! I was thrown out of my house when I was fifteen. I'm nineteen now. I couldn't go to school anymore, I had to find ways to work so I could eat and live. I sold drugs for a while, was a druggie for a while and then I found that prostituting myself pays a hell of a lot better. I had to take care of myself for four years Trowa, four years! What am I suppose to do now? I became a prostitute at Le Chat Noir when I was sixteen. They have been paying for my classes but no one is going to hire a known prostitute now. I know they won't. I stopped studying six months ago. There's no point."  
  
Trowa stared at Quatre a while and then leaned forward to gently touch Quatre's cheek. One silver tear fell from Quatre's eye to fall down his cheek to Trowa's finger.   
  
"I'll be here for you now. I'll hold you up until you can do it yourself. But please stop this. I don't want to see you hurt anymore. I'll take you in Quatre and I will never throw you out." Trowa whispered into the dark room. Quatre began to cry in earnest then.  
  
~*~  
  
(One year later)  
  
"Trowa, I don't think I can do this." Quatre said for the umpteenth time.  
  
"Quatre, you're majoring in engineering now. You have a guaranteed jog offer when you graduate. You're practically a genius and you're telling me you can't talk to your father now?" Trowa asked again for what seemed the umpteenth time.  
  
"But it's been so long!" Quatre said as he watched trees blur past him from his passenger seat in Trowa's car. Trowa just shook his head as he pulled into the driveway of the Winner mansion. They pulled up a gravelly drive and stopped at a columned entrance. Trowa turned off the car and pulled the key from the ignition.   
  
"Ready?" Trowa asked.   
  
Quatre heaved an apprehensive sigh, nodded and opened his car door. They walked to the door and knocked. A butler answered and looked at them questioningly.   
  
"I've come to speak to the head of the Winner household, please." Quatre said politely.  
  
~*~  
  
Quatre followed a butler down halls that for all the years he was gone, seemed so familiar he could've sworn he was there yesterday.   
  
"Maybe we should've called first." Trowa wondered allowed.   
  
"He would not have spoken to me." Quatre said and sighed. "At least now that I am here he can't hang up on me." Trowa nodded if not with a little doubt.   
  
Their guide, the butler, stopped before two large oak doors and opened them. He nodded them in and Quatre smiled his thanks as only one raised in a proper household would before he walked through the doors, Trowa following close behind him. Then Quatre stopped in shock as he stared straight ahead.  
  
~*~  
  
Trowa was surprised as well as confused as he ran into Quatre from behind. He wondered why he'd stopped when he noticed the young woman sitting in the desk ahead of them. She smiled softly.  
  
"I asked for the head of the Winner household." Quatre said weakly.  
  
"I am the head of the Winner house now Quatre. Papa died a few months ago." The woman replied.  
  
"Iria how..." Quatre mumbled in shock before his legs collapsed from below him. Trowa barely had enough time to catch him and still Quatre stared at the woman.   
  
"Then it's too late. I'll never know if he can forgive me. Now I can never convince him to forgive me. Forever disgraced. " Tears filled Quatre's cerulean blue eyes.  
  
The woman stood up quickly and walked towards them. "Oh Quatre, baby brother, no. Oh no, don't say that. Oh Quatre, father loved you so much. He forgave you. On his deathbed his last words were of you. He wanted you to forgive him, not the other way around." She said before she reached out to hug him.  
  
~*~  
  
The next few weeks were emotional and trying. Quatre read letters that his father wrote to him but could never send because he never knew where Quatre was. The will was read again, a large portion of the Winner fortune was to be given to Quatre should he ever return. For Quatre is was a difficult trial and through it all was Trowa, for which he was thankful.   
  
The next few years Quatre studied to get his degree in engineering and to help his sister run the Winner estates. Trowa and Quatre lived together in one of the many smaller Winner mansions and Quatre did go to see one of Trowa's shows at the circus.   
  
And through it all Trowa kept his promise that was given in a moonlit room that smelled of antiseptic and never threw Quatre out. Out of his home or his heart.  
  
~*(The end)*~  
  
  
  
Wow! That is a bunch of sap. ::Kicks herself:: You are a hopeless romantic Teira. Get over yourself! Anyhoo, that is the third and final chapter of Night Butterfly. What do you think? Should I take this story of ff.net and burn it. Or should it stay there?  



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